A Study in Asperger's
by Benaddicted2 Cumberbatch
Summary: An ongoing set of chapters that depict Sherlock as having Asperger's Syndrome. John eventually finds out through his deduction skills. How will Sherlock respond? The stories are written by someone with Asperger's (me!) and I thought it would be a great idea to use my own experiences and translate these to Sherlock's quirks and oddities. My first fanfiction.
1. Being Literal

It began with the meatloaf.

Or, rather, John's weak attempt at making meatloaf. It had been a tedious week of chasing clues through the streets of London on one of their most intricate cases yet. As usual, Sherlock had barely slept and ate even less. A piece of toast here and there for sustenance and John was concerned at how visibly thinner Sherlock had become. Instead of ordering takeout as he normally would, John decided it would do Sherlock some good to eat a healthy, home-cooked meal.

He glanced over at Sherlock, who was currently sprawled out on the couch, not even bothering to remove his royal blue scarf and Belstaff. John chuckled, cleared his throat and announced, "Dinner's ready."

There was no movement from the lump on the couch.

"Sherlock!"

Sighing loudly through his nose, Sherlock slowly got up and made his way into the kitchen. John was already seated and enthusiastically digging into his meal. If there was one thing Harry succeeded at, it was her meatloaf recipe. John had carried it with him throughout university and continued to follow tradition.

Sherlock looked down at the plate set before him with distaste.

"What is it?" he asked flatly.

"Meatloaf. I told you when we got in that I was going to make it. Now sit down before it gets cold," John urged.

As straight as a tree, Sherlock stood firmly planted in the same spot.

"I don't like meatloaf."

John was just about to eat a mouthful but his fork stopped short and settled on the table with a clang. "And you didn't think to tell me that earlier?" he asked incredulously.

"Nope," Sherlock replied, popping the "p" with his lips.

John sighed. "Will you at least try it?"

"Certainly not."

Throwing up his hands, John exclaimed, "You have not eaten a decent meal in seven days. For god's sake, sit down before you fall down."

Unexpectedly, Sherlock sat down. Casting a suspicious eye at the meatloaf, he didn't show any signs that he was going to indulge John and try it. John took a moment to study his friend's scowling face.

"I don't understand how you do it, Sherlock. A normal human being would be nearly starving after what you put your body through."

Sherlock swung a small, sideways smirk in John's direction. "I've told you before. Everything is just transport. I obviously experience hunger but I can suppress it. Mind power, John."

"Well," John began, "If you're going to be so picky after I've spent an hour slaving away in the kitchen, then don't eat anything at all."

John grabbed his plate, stood up and walked with a huff over to his favorite chair.

The next morning when John emerged with tired eyes and wild hair, Sherlock was already dressed in a meticulous, flawless black suit and staring intently at his laptop.

"Morning," John said tiredly. Sherlock offered him no response. Probing further, John asked, "What did you end up eating last night?"

"Nothing," Sherlock replied.

John looked at Sherlock. "What do you mean, nothing?"

Sherlock briefly glanced at John out of the corner of his eye before focusing on the screen again. "You told me not to eat anything at all if I was going to be picky, so I didn't."

John's mouth fell open. "You're joking, right?"

No response.

"Sherlock, are you trying to tell me that you took my statement so literally that you really didn't have anything at all?"

"I'm not trying to tell you. I am telling you," Sherlock replied.

John walked over so he was standing directly in front of Sherlock. Running a hand through his hair, John began, "Okay, you need to eat something NOW. What do you want?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment then confirmed, "Chinese."

"It's a bit early for Chinese. I'm not sure they're even open this early."

Shrugging his shoulders, Sherlock said, "I can wait. And please, never make meatloaf again. The taste and texture are an assault on my senses. I haven't touched it since I was a child and I don't intend to ever again."

John didn't grace Sherlock with a reply, but a thought started to form. He had briefly learned about it during his time in medical school. Asperger's Syndrome, a subset of autism. People with Asperger's often took statements literally and had sensitivities to certain tastes and textures of various foods. Shaking his head, John willed the thought away.

Sherlock on the autistic spectrum? It seemed unlikely, yet the pieces fit. Still, John was not keen on generalizing due to two instances. He decided that he would observe the detective a bit more carefully over the next few days.


	2. Sensitivity to Noise

Dodging through construction tape and upturned piles of dirt, John kept a firm grip on his groceries from Tesco while he fumbled in his pocket for the key to 221B.

The rapid change in temperature had caused the road outside their flat to buckle, and construction crews were out making repairs in full force. Sliding through the door, John climbed the stairs quickly but slowed his pace when he heard… nothing.

No booms, crashes, or even pacing came from the depths of the flat. Hand hesitating on the doorknob, John sucked in a breath and cautiously opened it. What he found was less than exciting.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, fingers steepled underneath his chin in a solemn pose, eyes closed in concentration and he had big… no, that wasn't the word for it… _massive_ headphones on.

John frowned in confusion when he saw that the headphones weren't connected to anything. No iPod or MP3 player, just a naked cord.

"Sherlock?" John inquired.

When the statue didn't budge, John carefully walked up to him and gently tapped his shoulder. Muscles jerking slightly, Sherlock opened his eyes with a start.

"Hey there," John said.

Sherlock didn't acknowledge John's words, but instead merely pointed a long finger at the headphones engulfing his ears.

John wasn't going to play this game. He reached and commandeered the headphones in one swift movement. Instead of a snippy comment as John had expected, Sherlock looked alarmed. His eyes grew wide and immediately hands flew up to cover the now exposed ears.

"Give them back!" Sherlock yelled firmly.

"What's the matter with you?" John rolled his eyes. "If this is for some case or experiment…"

Sherlock hesitated. "It's for an experiment, and you're destroying it."

John noted that Sherlock had now shut his eyes tight and was almost grimacing. Not wanting to inquire further if his friend had permanently damaged his hearing in some ungodly way, John closed the distance between them and handed Sherlock back his precious headphones.

"Fine," John stated, "But how long is this going to last?"

"The remainder of the evening," Sherlock responded, quickly grabbing the headphones out of John's grasp and putting them back on.

John was about to roll his eyes again when he noticed a sharp banging radiating throughout the flat from the road below. And suddenly, another piece of the puzzle had slid into place.

Sensory sensitivity to loud noises in the environment. If Sherlock did have Asperger's, the construction noises may be even louder to him without any measure of relief.

 _Except for noise-cancelling headphones_ , John thought.

He cast a sympathetic glance at Sherlock, who had now resumed his typical pose, and John wondered if Sherlock would pass the time by entering his mind palace tonight.

There was no other explanation for the odd behavior. Sherlock certainly had his quirks – leaving body parts in the fridge and whatnot – but he looked to be physically in pain from the loud noise.

John made a mental note to himself. _But how to discuss this topic?_ If Sherlock had never been diagnosed, or was not even aware of these tendencies, how would he react? John decided to continue the ever-expanding collection of evidence.


End file.
